Enchanté
by royalwatson
Summary: Foreign exchange student Richie goes to France for a month in the summer and stays with the Kaspbrak's. During his time there, he meets Eddie, and Richie is determined to become friends (or maybe even something more) with the small brunette. It's just too bad that Eddie doesn't understand English...


"Oui, je comprends. À bientôt." Eddie hung up the phone with a sullen sigh and looked out at the driveway from his spot on the balcony. The sun was shining high in the cloudless sky and there was a gentle breeze, keeping the air slightly cool and not too hot as the summers in France could be. Eddie closed his eyes and relished in the fresh air for a moment, feeling the warmth of the sun envelop him, before turning around and heading inside.

The new foreign exchange student the Kaspbrak's agreed to house for a month was supposed to be arriving any second now according to his mother. Sonia had berated Eddie, telling him to make himself look presentable and clean for their guest, as if Eddie usually walked around looking like a mess. He rolled his eyes at the thought and bounced down the steps into the foyer, not bothering to check his reflection in the mirror that was hung up on the wall as he passed.

Just as he pulled open the front door, Sonia's small, yellow bug came into view. Eddie shut the door behind him and leaned against the dark, mahogany wood, watching as his mother and their mystery summer guest got closer and closer.

"Eddie!" Sonia cried sunnily as she stepped out of the car. She sounded as if she hadn't_ just_ seen Eddie a few hours prior.

"Maman," Eddie responded in a much less joyous tone, just barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes at his mother's antics. "Ça va?" He briefly kissed her on both cheeks as she did his.

"Tu as l'air si sale!" _You look so dirty!_ His mom tutted as she pulled out a handkerchief from her purse and started to scrub at Eddie's cheek. He turned his head away with a grimace and took a step back.

"Arrête," he mumbled, feeling embarrassed. Despite being 19 years old, his mother still continued to treat him like a child.

Sonia _humph_ed and shoved the handkerchief back into her handbag. "Fais lui visiter les lieux." _Show him around the place._

Eddie waved her off as she headed towards the house. "Ouais, ouais," he said flippantly, not bothering to give her a proper response.

"Uh," an unfamiliar voice said. "Hello."

Eddie turned to the owner of the new voice and blinked.

He blinked again.

Eddie stood there unmoving, like an idiot, and stared at the stranger with wide eyes. Was it just him, or did the sun just get unbearably hotter? The foreign exchange student was _cute_— and Eddie didn't say that often about people. The guy was tall, way taller than Eddie, and had dark brown, almost black, curly hair. A pair of gold wired glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and Eddie watched, transfixed, as a pale, slender hand reached up to fiddle with them. Eddie swallowed nervously when he met the stranger's eye and he shot him a shy smile.

The stranger beamed. "Hi," he repeated.

Eddie tried not to blush under the curly haired boy's gaze. "Salut," he said in a small voice. "Je m'appelle Eddie." He stuck his hand out.

The taller boy stared at Eddie's extended hand with an unreadable expression on his face, making no move to shake it. Eddie scowled and pulled his hand back in embarrassment, but before he could, the bespectacled boy broke himself out of his stupor and hastily reached forward, clasping Eddie's small hand in his much larger one. "Sorry. Hi! I mean, uh, bonjour? Shit, is that right? Um, je— je m'appelle Richie."

Eddie watched in amusement as Richie's face turned bright red, no doubt because of his accent. Eddie didn't mind, however— he thought it was charming and couldn't help the little giggle that escaped him at the look of horror on the other boy's face.

"Enchanté," he said finally, taking pity on the taller boy.

"Enchanté. Uh, that means nice to meet you?"

Eddie nodded and smiled at the look of utter confusion on Richie's face. "Oui. Enchanté." He motioned for Richie to follow him. "Permettez-moi de vous faire visiter." _Let me give you a tour._

Richie stared at Eddie with wide eyes and jerked his head. "Right. Okay. Permit is moi the voo fair visitor," he parroted in a horrible accent. "Sure. I don't know what that means, but okay."

Eddie held back the smile that was threatening to overtake his face and led the way inside.

—

It was two and a half weeks into his stay at the Kaspbrak's residence and Richie was still horrified by that first encounter with Eddie. Despite spending months practicing the language with his friend Stan back at home, his accent was still appalling. It was those damn French_ r's_ that had him pulling his own hair out in frustration. Richie wished he had spent more time actually listening to Stan instead of reading comic books during their lessons. His best friend was freakishly good at picking up new languages and was able to speak French, Japanese, German, and Swedish, all fluently. Needless to say, Richie was the complete opposite. Still, he tried his best. His french had improved since that first encounter, but only marginally. Eddie had tried to help him, but Richie couldn't help but get distracted by how sexy the smaller boy sounded when he spoke French to him— even if he had no idea what the fuck he was saying. And yeah, that was beginning to become a problem because Richie was kinda already halfway in love with the little dude. The whole town seemed to know— even Eddie's childhood friend Bev, whom Richie had met the day after he had first arrived.

Lucky for him, Beverly spoke fluent English. Richie was so relieved to have someone else to actually speak to that he had kissed her smack on the lips when he had found out, only to receive a hard slap in return. _Do that again and I will rip your balls off._ He had been scared of the girl ever since. Eddie had laughed when it had happened though, so it wasn't all bad. He smiled at the memory.

"What are you smiling about over there, Trashmouth?"

Richie and Beverly were laying under the shade of a large umbrella in Eddie's backyard, sipping on lemonade and just hanging out. Eddie was currently inside, no doubt slathering on as much sunscreen as he could muster. It was the first cooler summer day after an excruciating heat wave and Richie was glad to be out in the sun. For the last few days, Eddie and Richie had done nothing but hole themselves up indoors, the AC strong and blasting. The fresh air and cloudy sky was a welcome change.

"Nothin'," he responded. "Just thinking about how Mrs. K and I went at it like rabbits last night." He smiled lewdly at her and the redhead rolled her eyes, well used to his horrible jokes by now.

Bev rolled over so she was on her stomach and reached for the glass of lemonade. "You sure you weren't thinking about how you wish it were you and Eddie instead?" She lifted her glass to her lips, slurping up the cool liquid before setting it back down gently on the grass next to her.

Richie scowled and refused to meet her gaze, instead focusing intently on his finger circling the rim of his glass. "I still don't get why you won't help me. You speak French _and_ English. It's so unfair! Every time I try to speak French to Eddie, he just stares at me like this." Richie rolled over onto his side, one elbow on the grass as he cradled his head in his hand, and looked at Beverly with a dumb, blank look on his face in an over-exaggerated imitation of Eddie.

"What do you want me to do?" Beverly asked in exasperation, sitting up and spreading her legs out in front of her. "Translate your awkward attempts at flirting? Your jokes about _his mom?_ Yeah, that would go over really well."

"I don't fucking know!" Richie exclaimed as he mirrored Beverly's movement, pushing up off the ground and sitting with his knees pulled up toward his chest. He rest his chin on one knee and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Do you know how hard it is for me to say one fucking sentence to him in French? I zound like an eediot."

Beverly stared at him with a blank expression on her face. "Was that supposed to be a French accent?"

"Oui."

"Okay, well don't do that again or I _really_ won't help you with Eddie."

Richie scoffed and plucked at the grass. "Like hell you were actually going to help me in the first place, Marsh."

She let out a loud laugh. "Just _talk_ to him," she said in a sly voice, emphasizing the word for reasons unknown to Richie. "Do you even really know him? You claim you're in love with him, but you're literally missing the most important de—"

"Yeah?" Richie huffed in annoyance, cutting her off. "Like what? That he's fucking French and and I'm not and I don't understand a _word_ of what he's saying besides_ baguette_ and _au toilette_ and, and _frommage_ or some shit like that? This is so unfair," he whined, dragging the word out. He stewed silently in his own misery for a second before whipping his head up to glare at the redhead. "You're evil. If Stan were here, he would have helped me."

Beverly raised an eyebrow. "From what you've told me of him, I don't think he would have."

"Okay, you're right. He wouldn't have," Richie admitted. He met her eye and put on his best puppy dog expression. "Please help me."

The redhead remained un-phased. "Nope. Talk to him yourself."

Before Richie could respond, i.e yell, Eddie appeared holding a tray of freshly cut watermelon and a beach towel. He set the tray down gently in the grass between Richie and Beverly before unfolding the towel and laying it next to Beverly's feet. He sat himself down lightly on the cloth so as not to mess it up.

"De quoi parlez-vous?" _What are you talking about?_ He looked between Beverly and Richie expectantly.

Beverly shook her head. "Ce n'est pas important." _It's not important._

Eddie narrowed his eyes and stared at her suspiciously. "Vous êtes sûrs?" _Are you sure?_

"Oui," the redhead laughed. "Richie est tout simplement stupide."_ Richie's just being stupid._

"Hey!" Richie yelled indignantly. "I may be stupid, but I'm not that stupid!"

Eddie and Beverly stared at Richie in surprise before before bursting into laughter.

—

_Trashmouth added stanusanus and billiam the 3rd_

_Trashmouth renamed the group Operation Spagheddie_

(1:09am) Trashmouth: bonjour mes amis

(1:09am) _stanusanus: Oh dear lord. Not this shit again._

_stanusanus changed his name to STAN._

(1:09am) **billiam the 3rd: Richie what are you doing up? isn't it late over there?**

(1:09am) **billiam the 3rd: and what is operation spaghetti?**

(1:10am) Trashmouth: operation spaghEDDIE is goin guys helping me win over the 3 and affection of the cute french boy im staying with

(1:10am) _STAN.: Richie, how exactly are we supposed to do that?_

(1:10am) Trashmouth: idk i was hoping u guys had ideas :p

(1:11am) **billiam the 3rd: ?**

(1:11am) Trashmouth: U GUYS R SUPPOSED 2 B THE SMART ONES ;(

(1:11am) Trashmouth: do u kno how ANNOYING it is to see eddie everyday and NOT b able 2 talk to him?

(1:11am) Trashmouth: it's torture

(1:11am) **billiam the 3rd: womp womp**

(1:12am) **billiam the 3rd: *sad trombone noises***

(1:12am) _STAN.: Wow. If only someone offered to teach you French…_

(1:12am) _STAN.: Oh wait_

(1:13am) Trashmouth: ;(

(1:13am) Trashmouth: help me silva plate

(1:13am) **billiam the 3rd: what?**

(1:14am) _STAN.: I know for a fact that you didn't mean to put s'il vous plâit…_

(1:14am) Trashmouth: …

(1:14am) Trashmouth: SEE

(1:14am) Trashmouth: IM USELESS WITHOUT UR HELP PLS HELP ME

(1:15am)** billiam the 3rd: idk french so I don't know why I'm in this gc tbh**

(1:15am) Trashmouth: moral support

(1:15am) Trashmouth: STANNY PLS

(1:15am) _STAN.: Again, I don't know what you want me to do from all the way over here. Send Eddie a letter telling him to date you so you can finally stop bothering me?_

(1:15am) _STAN.: Tempting, but no._

(1:16am) Trashmouth: ;(

(1:16am) **billiam the 3rd: didn't you say there was a girl there that speaks English? why not ask her?**

(1:16am) Trashmouth: i did and she said no :(

(1:16am)_ STAN.: Smart girl._

(1:17am) Trashmouth: u guys r no help

(1:17am) Trashmouth: im going 2 sleep :(

(1:17am) **billiam the 3rd: sorry Richie**

(1:18am) _STAN.: Désolé, Richie._

—

Despite the lack of help from his so called friends, Richie was able to talk to Eddie through a combination of broken french and charades. After his failed attempt at trying to subtly ask Eddie to give him a tour of the town, just the two of them, Beverly had finally taken pity on him and had taught him a few french phrases she said would be a surefire way to get Eddie to notice him. He had practiced them day and night in the small bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror, and rolled the phrases around on his tongue.

He hadn't had the chance to impress Eddie yet with his sudden French skills, what with the way they both had their respective schedules to adhere to, but Richie waited patiently for the perfect moment to come to him, and it seemed like his patience had finally paid off.

Passing through the kitchen, Richie glanced out the window to see Eddie's lone figure sitting at the edge of the pool. He didn't seem to be doing anything other than just relaxing in the sun, so Richie figured it was okay to go out and join him.

Opening the cabinet above the sink, Richie brought down two clear glasses and set them on the counter before turning to the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice. He quickly poured a generous amount in both glasses, the juice splashing the sides of the cup, before twisting the lid back on and placing the carton back in the fridge. Richie took a sip of his own glass for luck before grabbing the other and walking out the back door towards the pool.

"Bonjour!" Richie greeted cheerfully once he got closer. He extended his arm out and passed the glass of juice to a startled Eddie. "For you."

The smaller boy turned to smile at him and gently grabbed the glass from Richie, his eyes following the taller boy's movements as Richie slid his sandals off and dipped his feet into the pool. He sat down as close to Eddie as he could dare.

"Ça va?" Eddie asked, leaning in briefly to give Richie air kisses.

Richie let out a strangled noise. Eddie had always greeted Beverly like that, or even his mom, but never Richie. He felt his face heat up and quickly scooped some of the pool water into his hand before splashing his face with it. "Whew," he said, wiping at his brow dramatically. "It's hot." He fanned himself with his hand in a gesture to show what he meant.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of his lip tugging upwards into a smirk.

"Oookay, I don't know if you understood that. Uh, je ne parle que le français un peu," he tried. _I can only speak a little bit of French._ Richie had no doubt that he was completely botching the words, but as long as Eddie understood him, he didn't mind.

The look on Eddie's face confirmed his suspicions. His accent was still shit, but that didn't deter him. Richie racked his brain as he tried to remember all the phrases Bev had taught him. He wanted to have a conversation with Eddie so bad, but he didn't even know where to begin. Beverly had taught him everything from the innocent, _I like my eggs sunny side up,_ to the explicit, f_uck me so hard I can't walk._ If Richie said the latter to Eddie, he was sure he would shrivel up and die right there on the spot.

"Uh," he tried again. "Mes pieds, uhhh, sen- sentent comme du lait?" _Are you enjoying your day so far?_ is the translation Beverly had given him. He mentally cheered at himself for remembering the phrase correctly and flashed Eddie a wide smile. His grin slowly fell when he Eddie's confused and slightly disgusted expression. Had he said it wrong? He was so sure he had gotten it right. Richie cleared his throat and tried again.

"Um, mes pieds sentent comm—"

"Non," Eddie said, cutting Richie off before he could embarrass himself further. "Faux." _Wrong._

Richie blinked at him in confusion. "Sorr— uh, I mean, desolé. I don't understand…" He trailed off and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Why was French so hard?

Eddie grabbed his attention then and gestured to himself before pulling one foot out of the pool and bringing it closer to his face. He pretended to lean in and sniff, making a face of mock disgust and wafting a hand in front of his nose. Dropping his leg back into the water, Eddie then put both his hands in the air and held them in loose fits, moving them up and down.

Richie watched intently, trying to figure out what it was Eddie was trying to tell him. The smaller boy had also taken to using charades as a way to get his thoughts across to Richie. It wasn't effective, but it resulted in lots of laughter from the two boys, so he wasn't too upset with their method of communication. Richie focused again when Eddie started to repeat the movements.

"Uh, _you,_ okay… _smelly foot_… then, what is that? Handjobs?" He could think of literally nothing else that motion could mean.

Richie wasn't sure if Eddie had entirely understood him, but the smaller boy lowered his hands with a sigh and looked around him for a bit before his face suddenly lit up. Eddie grabbed the orange juice Richie had brought him earlier and set it on the ledge between them. He brought his hands back up over the glass this time and repeated the same motion as before.

"Oh!" Richie exclaimed, finally getting what Eddie was doing. "You're milking a cow! Right? Okay, so you pointed to yourself, so that's _you—_"

Eddie shook his head and pointed at Richie.

"_Me?_ Oh, okay. So _me, smelly foot, milk?_ What does that even mean?"

Richie watched in confusion as Eddie bit down on his bottom lip and turned away, the beginnings of a smile making its way onto the boy's face. Eddie cleared his throat and twisted back to look at Richie, mirth dancing in his brown eyes. "Mes pieds sentent comme du lait," he said with a small giggle.

"Yeah, that's what I said to you before. It means how has your d—" Richie stopped, realization hitting him like a freight train. "Wait. What the _fuck_. Have I, have I been saying my feet smell like rotten milk this _whole_ time?!"

Eddie's cackle was answer enough.

—

"Let's bike into town," Bev suggested one evening.

"Sure," Richie nodded, spinning around in his seat to face the redhead. "I still need to get souvenirs for mes amies back home." It was his last week in France and Richie was already dreading leaving this beautiful place behind. The greenery, the (for the most part) mild summer weather, the delicious food, Beverly, _Eddie._ He was going to miss Eddie _so_ much. It sucked that he still hadn't found a proper way to tell Eddie how much he liked him. _Guess it doesn't matter anymore since I'm leaving soon anyways,_ Richie thought sadly to himself. He wished not for the first time that he could stay longer.

"Aww, don't look too sad," Beverly cooed when she caught sight of Richie's sullen expression. "You still have a few days left here. We'll make the most of it while we can," she said lightheartedly in an attempt to cheer Richie up. "Lève toi! Let's go save Eddie from his mom and go before it gets dark." She stood behind Richie and shoved her hands under his armpits in attempt to lift him up from his seat. "Allons-y Richie! Before it gets too dark, or else Sonia won't let Eddie leave!"

That had Richie up and out of his seat and they scurried down the stairs and out the back door to the little pond that was on the outskirts of the Kaspbrak's property. Richie spotted Eddie and Mrs. K sitting across from each other at the small, white table by the edge of the water.

"Eddie!"

The brunette looked up at the sound of Richie's voice and smiled brightly when he caught sight of the two of them making their way towards him. He closed the journal he had been writing in and said something to his mother before pushing his chair back and meeting them halfway.

"Nous pensions nous rendre en ville en vélo," Beverly said once they got closer. _We were thinking of riding our bikes into town._ "Tu as un vélo en plus pour Richie, n'est-ce pas?" _You have an extra bike that Richie can ride, right?_

Eddie glanced at Richie. "Euh, oui. Laisse moi dire à ma mère que nous sortons." _Yes, let me go tell my mom we're leaving._

Despite having heard Eddie speak French 24/7 for almost a whole month now, Richie still wasn't used to the way it made him feel. _God, Eddie just normally was cute, but Eddie speaking French was _**_sexy_****.** He stared in adoration as the smaller boy rushed back to Sonia, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

"Shut your mouth," Bev said with a snort. "You'll catch flies."

Richie threw her the middle finger and didn't bother to respond.

They watched as Eddie spoke rapidly to his mother, Sonia's expression changing to one of displeasure at whatever he was saying. He looked frustrated, his hands in fists by his side, and it seemed as if Sonia wasn't going to let the smaller boy go, but just as suddenly as Richie had that thought, Sonia's entire demeanor changed. Eddie looked victorious as he marched back over to where Richie and Beverly had been waiting.

"Uh," Richie started. "Everything okay?" He threw his hand up in the universal sign for okay. "Um, ça va?" He turned to Bev. "Ça va? Is that right?"

The redhead held back her laughter. "Oui, that's right."

Richie turned back to Eddie just in time to see a look of fondness pass over the smaller boy's features. "Oui," Eddie said with a small smile. "Ça va."

—

Eddie had asked they wait while he went back to his room to change and Richie had nearly had a heart attack when he saw what the brunette had changed into. Gone was the polo and khaki shorts. In its place was a pale yellow shirt that seemed to be two sizes too big and black shorts that seemed to be two fucking sizes too small. Not only that, but Eddie was also wearing a fanny pack. _A fanny pack._ Richie was going to have an aneurysm. He just knew it.

Beverly stared at him in amusement, but hadn't said anything and instead just rolled her eyes. She swung one leg over her bike and twisted halfway to look at Richie. "Are we gonna go or are you gonna just stand there and ogle Eddie all day?"

The smaller boy had turned at the sound of his name and Richie hurriedly mounted his own bike, refusing to meet anybody's eyes. "Alright, alright," he mumbled, still thinking about Eddie's legs in those shorts. "Let's go."

The three of them biked down the wide dirt road, criss-crossing in front of each other and laughing when Beverly almost hit a brick wall in an attempt to dodge Richie. They pedaled faster and faster as they neared the town and Richie had never felt so free. He hadn't ridden a bike since he was a child and riding one now, with the new friends he had made in a place so beautiful and picturesque, made him feel giddy and a little bit reckless.

"Guys!" he shouted as he pedaled a little harder so he was in front of Eddie and Beverly. "Watch this!" Richie took his hands off the handlebars and spread them out on either side of his body, palms facing up. With the wind rushing through his hair, he tilted his head up at the sky, embracing the last few rays of the setting sun, and closed his eyes, the glow of the sun turning everything golden behind his eyelids.

Just as he placed a hand back on his handlebar, he heard a frantic shout from behind him, barely audible over the rhythmic _tick tick tick tick tick_ of the cards in between the spokes of his bike.

_"RICHIE!"_

He opened his eyes just in time to see a dip in the uneven pavement, construction cones set up around the pothole, and he squeezed the brake on the handlebar. _Hard._ There was a blur of orange and white as he flipped over the bike, then pain as he hit the ground, breath knocked out of him. Richie blinked blearily up at the blue sky in confusion, just barely hearing a voice repeat shitshitshit over and over again, the sound of frantic footsteps hitting the pavement, before he closed his eyes and succumbed to the pain.

—

His head was pounding, his body ached, and he felt like he had been hit by a semi. No way he was in heaven, not that Richie believed in all that heaven and hell shit, but wasn't the afterlife supposed to be_ comfortable? R_ichie was feeling far from and he scrunched his face up in annoyance when he heard the steady, unrelenting sound of someone drumming their fingers against wood.

"Stop," he muttered, shaking his head slightly. He stopped immediately when it only made his headache worse.

The tapping suddenly ceased. "Richie?"

Richie groaned and slowly blinked open his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He was back at the Kaspbrak residence, laying in the bed he had been calling his for the last month, and Eddie was currently standing over him, a worried and pinched expression on his face. "Richie?" He repeated.

"Yeah, that's me. Or at least it was the last I checked," he said in a failed attempt at lightening the mood. He blindly reached for his glasses and shoved them haphazardly onto his face. Eddie looked unimpressed. "Yeah, I know," he grunted as he struggled to sit up. "You don't understand a word I'm saying. _God,_" he moaned, bringing his hands up to hide his face. "This is so embarrassing." Richie peaked through two fingers when he heard the twinkling sound of Eddie's laughter fill the room. "It's not funny Eds," he said in mock seriousness. "I could've died out there you know."

"Don't call me Eds. And no, you wouldn't have, you dramatic asshole."

_"Yes,_ I coul—" he stopped himself and gasped, blinking wildly at Eddie. "What?"

Eddie blinked back. "I didn't say anything."

"I— You—," he stammered, trying to make sense of the whole situation. "How did yo— You, you speak English?!" Richie was so, so, so confused. He must've hit his head harder than he thought because there was no way Eddie Kaspbrak was speaking English to him right now. "Am I dreaming?" He asked suddenly, seeing as there was no other explanation for Eddie's sudden English speaking skill. "I'm dreaming, right?"

Eddie bit back a smile and gave him a one armed shrug. "I don't think so."

"Wha— Then _how…"_ he trailed off in horror. "Have you known English this _whole time?!"_

Eddie quickly averted his gaze and didn't answer which Richie took as an answer in itself.

"Oh my fucking god," he said blankly. "You knew English this whole time…" He cast his mind back to all the times he had spoken English to Eddie, thinking the other boy wouldn't understand a word of what he was saying. A particularly vivid memory stood out and he suddenly thrashed wildly in his bed, startling Eddie. _God,_ he was going to light himself on fire.

_"Le garçon est beau."_

_"The boy is handsome," Beverly translated, not looking up from where she was painting her toenails a pretty lavender color. "I don't know how you don't know all this, Richie. I thought you said your friend Stan was teaching you the basics months before you even came here." She finished the last nail with a flourish and grabbed the small nail polish bottle, twisting the lid back on before gently setting her legs on the ground out in front of her._

_Richie ignored her in favor of grinning stupidly, excitedly at Eddie. He turned to look at the redhead. "Bev, did Eddie just call me handsome?"_

_Beverly snorted. "No, moron. He was teaching you how to say __**the**__**boy,**__" she put emphasis on the word, "__**is handsome**__. Not, __**Richie is handsome. **__Do you even listen to anything I tell you?"_

_"Eds, I think you're handsome too," Richie said, disregarding Beverly entirely. "Actually, I think you're __**adorable. **__Cute, cute, cute!" Richie gushed. "To be honest, the only reason why I'm saying all this is because I know you don't understand a word I'm saying," Richie admitted a little sadly, not noticing the startled and confused look Beverly was giving Eddie. "But it's okay! We'll make it work. I'll work harder to learn French for you Eds… And I know I've only been here for 3 days now, but I think I may actually want to move here and live with you forever. We can adopt 2 kids and 1 dog and maybe buy a goldfish too and we can watch them grow up while we grow old together." He let out a dreamy sigh, no longer looking at Eddie who was rapidly turning an alarming shade of red._

_A cough shook him out of his reverie and he turned to glare at Beverly who was looking far too amused for her own good. "You like Eddie?" She asked, barely concealing her glee._

_"Yes," Richie said simply. "I like Eddie a lot. In fact, I am in like with him, so please get back to translating his sexy french for me so I can write all this shit down and memorize it."_

_"Richie," Beverly started. The bespectacled boy turned his gaze back to her. "You know Eddie can un—" she paused and bit her lip. Richie furrowed his eyebrows. "You know what? Never mind. Sure, Rich, I'll help you study French. How else are you gonna communicate with Eddie and live out your fantasy?" She winked at him then and Richie threw her a grateful smile._

Oh, Richie was going to _kill_ her. He let out a groan and flopped back down, throwing his sheets over his head in order to hide his tomato red face. "You knew English this whole time?" He asked again stupidly, thinking the answer would, somehow, be different this time around.

"No, dipshit," Eddie snapped. "The Russians injected me with a super secret language learning serum and I was able to learn English overnight. Oh and did I mention I can speak Korean too? Annyeong, bitch."

Richie peeked out from under the blanket and threw Eddie the most withering, hateful look he could muster.

Eddie sighed and ran a hand nervously through his hair. "I— sorry," he apologized sincerely. "I get bitchy when I get nervous."

"You don't get to be bitchy," Richie pointed out, finally unveiling his head from underneath the blanket. "I've been here a month,_ a month,_ and you haven't said a_ single thing_ to me. I looked like a complete idiot! And I bet you and Bev just giggled about it like school girls when I was gone, didn't you?" He spat the last part out, embarrassment quickly morphing into anger, and Richie saw Eddie flinch out of the corner of his eye._ Good,_ he thought childishly to himself. _Serves him right._

"It wasn't like that!" Eddie yelled in agitation. "It just… never came up." He ran another hand through his hair and started to pace the length of the room. "My mom is from here," he started to explain as he wrung his hands together, not making eye contact with Richie as the taller boy stared at him shrewdly. "So speaking French is just easier when I'm around her. I grew up in America though, Maine to be exact, which is why I know how to speak English. I always come here for the summer though to visit friends and family and I dunno, it's just more natural to speak French when I'm actually in France, you know?" He gestured wildly with his hands as he continued to rant. "I _swear_ I was going to tell you, but I just didn't know _how_. I didn't even realize you didn't know I could speak English until the day you basically declared your love for me three days into your stay here!" Eddie threw his hands up in the air and flopped down into the armchair behind him.

It was silent for a long moment.

"God," Richie finally croaked. "I'm so fucking embarrassed. Can you do me a favor and knock me the fuck out? Maybe I'll get lucky and get amnesia or something so I won't have to remember any of this."

Eddie peered at Richie from under his lashes and let out a big sigh. "Je t'aime aussi," he murmured shyly.

Richie turned to look at him with a frown. "What?"

Eddie stood up from his seat and crossed the room until he was right by Richie's bed again. "Je t'aime aussi," he repeated, a little more boldly.

"Uh yeah, I heard you the first time Eds I just don't know what the fuck th—"

"I like you too, idiot," Eddie cut in.

Richie's brain short circuited. "What?" He squeaked. "You… like me too? Like, you like me as a friend or…"

Eddie rolled his eyes and looked heavenward. "No, asshole, I like you. I'm in like with you. Those were your words, weren't they?"

"I— I don't know what to say," Richie stammered. He blinked rapidly in quick succession and darted his eyes around the room before settling his gaze on Eddie again. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming? Because I really think that's the only expla-_mph!"_

Richie stared at Eddie through wide eyes as the other boy drew back, a dark, red flush decorating his cheeks. Richie would bet $500 that his cheeks were the same exact shade of red. He cleared his throat and held up one finger. "Uh," he started. "Was that supposed to convince me, Eds? Because that is _exactly_ what dream Eddie would do," Richie said, the beginnings of a smile making its way onto his face.

"Shut up, dickwad," Eddie muttered with no real heat. "I'm not doing that again until you brush your teeth."

Richie beamed at him. "You wanna do that again? With me?"

The shorter boy rolled his eyes. "No, I want to do that with Hitler. Idiot."

"I think I liked you better when you spoke French, Eds. You're mean when you speak English."

Eddie leaned down until his lips were just barely grazing Richie's ear. "Non. Je veux le faire avec Hitler," he said in a low voice. "Better?"

Richie squirmed under him. "On second thought, maybe you should speak English, uh, silva plate," Richie squeaked, heart thudding wildly in his chest.

Eddie threw his head back and laughed. "Don't tell me that was supposed to be _please_ in French," he said through another bubble of laughter.

"Eet vas, my good spaghetti man." Richie crowed in a horrible French accent, laughing along with him. He stopped suddenly, remembering a memory from before, and faced Eddie, his expression set in a straight line. "Speaking of please… Can you s'il vous plâit tell me where our good friend Bev is? There's something I need to talk to her about…"

Fin.


End file.
